


Baby That's Grand

by fudgernutter



Series: Scrapped Ideas [2]
Category: Mobtale, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ITS THE 1920S, Multi, THERES ALL TYPES OF RACISM AND BIGOTRY EVERYWHERE YALL, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:27:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7927780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fudgernutter/pseuds/fudgernutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sharp noise startles you and you look up, expecting it to be the quiet bartender again. What you see immediately sets you on edge. It’s a Skeleton monster. He’s wearing an easy grin and a three-piece in a dark charcoal pin-stripe with a bright blue tie and a matching fedora. You don’t remember seeing him come in and you’ve been frantically watching the door all night.</p><p>“Hey there sweetheart,” he starts as you try not to look up at him. He sets his head in his hand, leaning against the table as he continues, “Sorry to say I ain’t seen your face in this part of town before. What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?”</p><p>“You mean what’s a human doing in a monster bar,” you clarify for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby That's Grand

**Author's Note:**

> BECAUSE I APPARENTLY NEEDED MORE STORIES TO WORK ON?????
> 
> Please enjoy this very self indulgent 1920s themed mobtale au story
> 
> thank

You know it’s probably not a good idea to be here. The monsters haven’t been the most… friendly folk since coming out of Mt. Ebbot, but you know for a fact that the Monster Quarter of town is really the only place you’ll be safe right now. But still you can’t help but to flinch every time the door to this little speakeasy named Grillby’s opens, body tensing as you resist the urge to sprint out of the building and further downtown.

You take another drink of whatever the bartender had given you. It was mildly alcoholic but you could barely taste it under whatever cloying sweet juice was in with it. It was just enough to keep you from jumping out of your skin at every little noise coming from the main serving area. You peer over the back booth in front of you at the front door again as you hear the jingle of the front door bells and in walks a large group of monsters with instrument cases at their sides. They must be the band playing here tonight, ring led by a man in a bright pink flapper style dress.

The bartender, a fire elemental that had only given you a look when you walked in before handing you a drink and a small tray of lobster canapés. You suppose you had looked like you needed it. You probably did, you think, tracing the edge of your glass with a finger.

A sharp noise startles you and you look up, expecting it to be the quiet bartender again. What you see immediately sets you on edge. It’s a Skeleton monster. He’s wearing an easy grin and a three-piece in a dark charcoal pin-stripe with a bright blue tie and a matching fedora. You don’t remember seeing him come in and you’ve been frantically watching the door all night.

“Hey there sweetheart,” he starts as you try not to look up at him. You don’t know what it was with Monsters all being so large, but he wasn’t any exception. He was at least a good head taller than you and at least twice your width. A baby grand if you ever saw one. He’s an intimidating presence even if he gives off an easy-going air. He sets his head in his hand, leaning against the table as he continues, “Sorry to say I ain’t seen your face in this part of town before. What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?”

“You mean what’s a human doing in a monster bar,” you clarify for him, hoping you’re still sober enough to keep your facade on and going strong. He talks like a mobster if you’ve ever heard one, and you’ve heard more than your fair share. You probably shouldn’t instigate him but at this point you’re too far gone to really be careful. You bite your lip before tilting your head just enough to meet his, well you can’t say eyes, so eye sockets, over the edge of your cloche hat. They widen just a bit, and you know he’s seen the massive shiner that’s bloomed over your left eye. 

“Mind if I have a smoke?” He asks, pulling a cigarette out from the inside pocket of his suit. You shake your head and he pulls out a matchbook as well, pulling one out and lighting it with a flick of his thumb. He hunkers in his seat a bit before he waves over to the flaming monster at the bar. “Grillbs, bring me and the doll here some of the good stuff. Go ahead and put it on my tab.”

He takes a deep drag and lets it out, smoke drifting through his teeth and nasal cavity. It’s mesmerizing to watch, a fairy-tale come true. “Well, looks like you know how the song and dance works then sweetheart. Take your time.”

You lick your lips, as Grillby brings you over two glasses of some kind of hooch. One glass he takes and knocks back, nearly draining half the thing in one gulp. The other one he pushes towards you, and you nod at it even though you’re not even done with your first glass that Grillby had given you earlier.

It’s quiet as you sip the rest of your cocktail and the skeleton across from you puffs on his cigarette. He’s obviously curious and you know he won’t leave until he has the answers he wants, but you do have to admire him for at least letting you do it on your own time.

You try to figure out what to tell him and where to begin. There’s a lot of ground to cover, you think as you shift your legs around under the table, accidently hitting the bag you had grabbed with you for the night.

“Ah shiet,” you mutter out, not even bothering to cover your accent at this point and down the rest of your lingering cocktail before swiping the other drink and taking a deep gulp of that as well. It reminds you a lot like fine aged whiskey. 

You rub at your brow with the back of your thumb before shooting the skeleton before you a slightly crazed look. Hey, if he want’s you to come clean, you’re going to come clean. “Al’ight Mistah Skelington. As you kin tell, I’m kind of naught popular with most folks myself. I may ‘ave gotten mixed up in some futzing stupid mobster sheit and now I’m tryin’ ta naught be killed. So far so good and quite honestly I’d like ta keep it that way. So, what you’d like ta know I would gladly answer ta keep it… ah, what is it? Copasetic between us. Aye? How’s about that?”

The skeleton before you’s eyes go even wider, before crinkling at the edges as his grin grows wider. He taps his cigarette into the ashtray on the table before replacing it in his mouth and leaning forward. “Ah, now you’re really speaking my language here dollface. You want things to work out then you answer all of of my questions and we’ll be fine. Capiché?”

**Author's Note:**

> bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbasically I love the 1920s, I am of direct Irish and Scottish decent and I fckn can't sop myself from writing about my husband. So this is super self indulgent for me.
> 
> If you wanna yell at me or see other Undertale related stuff please check me out on the [tumbles](fudgernutter.tumblr.com)


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